


last christmas

by somalester



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Domestic Avengers, Epistolary, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, SteveTony Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somalester/pseuds/somalester
Summary: Last Christmas, Tony broke Steve's heart.This Christmas, long-buried feelings are brought into the open.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 142





	last christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/gifts).



> This is for my SteveTony Secret Santa partner, ishipallthings! I loved your wishlist (if I'd had the time, I would've written much more with this), and I hope you like what I've come up with!
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you!
> 
> (details about the drug use tag are in the end notes)

_Last Christmas_

* * *

_Tony,_

_The last six months have been the happiest of my life. I know it’s not much, but this means a lot to me and I want you to have it._

_Merry Christmas sweetheart._

_I love you._

_Yours, Steve_

* * *

Christmas dinner was an awkward affair.

Tony had helped Bruce cook and made sure to set the table so that he would sit as far away from Steve as physically possible, but he could still feel Steve’s eyes on him every once in a while. And whenever Tony thought Steve wasn't looking, he caught his own seeking out soft blonde hair on the other end of the table.

Bruce was fidgeting next to him. “So, uh, how do you like it?”

Tony bit back a sigh and indulged the forced attempt at conversation. It wasn’t Bruce’s fault, after all, that Steve and Tony couldn't look each other in the eye anymore.

“It’s lovely, thank you.” Tony didn't even have to lie; though he’d grown up dining in Michelin Star restaurants, they never came close to a homemade dinner. And Bruce’s cooking reminded him of his -

“What I don't understand,” Thor said, frowning slightly, “is why you would not make enough for a true feast.”

Clint snickered. “Yeah, Bruce, why didn't you roast another Turkey?”  
“Next time, you’re welcome to help me,” Bruce said pointedly.

Tony found himself smiling. This was a far cry from the Christmas parties he’d used to throw, where he’d end up with a bunch of strangers in his house. This was different. In the eighteen months of being a team they’d started to build more than just that between them.

Tony’s eyes met Steve’s and he immediately averted his gaze. His gut churned uneasily.

Around him, the chatter went on. Laughter, the clinking of cutlery against pottery; it all blurred together. Tony stared at the tree in the corner of the room and tried to quell the dread bubbling up inside him. He'd agreed to do this, insisted they invite the entire team, even, but now, the prospect of spending the whole evening in Steve’s proximity was daunting. He wished he could just resent the guy, just as most people did with their ex-partners, but Steve was so _earnest_ and _nice_ , it was pretty much impossible to hate him.

On a whim, Tony’d decided to take his old ornaments out of storage; the ones made out of stained glass, one of the few things his mother had had a real passion for. He hadn't anticipated the mixed emotions he felt as he watched his team hang them up, and he’d almost had to excuse himself for a few minutes, when -

 _A soft hand on his shoulder, blue eyes, burning into his._ _“Are you okay?”_

Tony shuddered and shook his head. They might've broken up a year ago, but Steve was still his friend. None of Steve’s concerned touches or warm smiles meant anything. He needed to stop getting as worked up about it as he did.

Tony felt someone’s eyes on him and met Natasha’s gaze, who was watching him as though he was a puzzle she was working on solving.

“Would you like some more potatoes?” She asked lightly.

Tony looked down at his half-cleared plate and shook his head. His appetite had left him.

* * *

_Bruce,_

_Had to go put out some fires at SI._

_Don’t know if I will be back in time for dinner. Don’t wait up for me._

_Tony_

* * *

When Tony walked into the workshop a few hours later, he could feel exhaustion pulling at his bones.

He was grateful to have his teammates at the tower for Christmas, but now, every silence was heavy, laden with tension and the obvious elephant in the room nobody had wanted to mention.

But that’s just what he got for breaking up on Christmas day, he supposed.

He let himself fall onto his workshop couch and tried to relax in the blessed silence. After dinner, Natasha had suggested playing Poker, which lead to quite a tense competition between her and Clint that Tony had had to cut short, as Bruce had been looking on increasingly nervously. They had decided on watching a movie afterwards, and even though Tony had taken the opposite side of the couch, he had still felt Steve’s presence, just as tense and uncomfortable as he was.

It wasn't anyone’s fault. The team couldn't have known Tony had taken Steve to see that exact same film on their first date, and bought out the entire theatre, which had made Steve so adorably flustered, even as he’d admonished Tony for wasting his money.

It was cold on the workshop floor. Tony shivered.

Tony had felt Steve looking at him when he’d left midway through the movie, and he didn't even have to meet his eyes to know that there would be the mix of sadness and hurt in his eyes that never failed to make Tony feel as though Steve had just personally wedged a spear into his chest.

Something sharp bumped into his foot. Tony turned his head and saw DUM-E, clutching Tony’s thickest blanket in his claw.

Tony swallowed. “Thanks buddy,” he murmured tightly and tugged the heavy fabric up to his shoulders. He shivered again.

“Incoming call from: Pepper Potts,” JARVIS announced.

Tony sighed. He didn't have to listen to her probing questions to know why she was calling. “Put her through.”

He was glad when the call didn't connect to video. He was pretty sure seeing the exhausted state he was in would only conform Pepper’s concerns.

“Tony,” she greeted softly. “How are you?”

“Oh,” Tony responded brazenly, “you know, the usual. Kept Bruce from murdering Clint, and Thor from starving, so I think we can call this evening a success.”

Pepper didn't answer. Her silence was so pointed, it effortlessly succeeded in making him feel guilty for his evasive answer.

“What? It’s true,” he defended himself. “You wouldn't believe how hard it is to avoid disaster in here.” He winced. That was probably too close to the truth.

“Tony,” she said, much more gently than she normally would’ve. “You volunteered to go to the Van Dyne’s fundraiser.”

“So what?” He muttered. “They can use the publicity.”

“I know it’s not easy for you,“ Pepper went on, without acknowledging his deflection. “If there’s anything I can do -”

“You can let me go to that fundraiser,“ Tony snapped. He sighed and rubbed his temples. He knew she just wanted to help. But that almost made it worse; having to admit that there was something to be concerned about. “I just need some distraction, Pep, promise.”  
She hesitated. “I know he meant a lot to you. If… if you want to come to Malibu again, let me know, okay? I’ll be there.”

Tony opened his mouth to tell her that no, he wouldn't be leaving New York again as abruptly as he had the last time, and stumble into his office, shaking and desperate for work to take his mind off of Steve. But it wasn't like he'd planned to do that last year either.

“Thank you, Pep,“ he whispered. “I- Thank you.”

“You know, if you want me to talk to him …”

“No!” Tony shouted, sitting up straighter, then winced. “It’s… I told you, it wasn't his fault. I have it handled.”

“If you say so.” She didn't sound at all convinced, but didn't press, and he was grateful for that. She hadn't pressed either, when she'd found him, crying in the workshop of his Malibu mansion a year ago. He’d told her that it as over between him and Steve, and that had been that. She’d spent a week at his side, making sure he didn't forego eating and sleeping, be it accidentally or on purpose.

And when she’d had to leave for meetings in Japan, and he’d started to overwork, dig deeper and deeper into the faulty code of an update for the newest StarkPhone, she’d…

Tony cleared his that and banished the thoughts from his head. All that was over. His relationship with Steve was over. He wasn't in the depression stage of a breakup anymore.

“How are you? How’s Paris?”

* * *

From: Potts, Pepper, <[ _ppotts@sindustries.com_](mailto:ppotts@sindustries.com)>

To: Stark, Tony, <[ _tstark@sindustries.com_](mailto:tstark@sindustries.com)>

_Tony,_

_you know as well as me that there’s nothing left to do here for you. I have it handled._

_I don’t know what happened between you and Steve, but you shouldn’t be overworking yourself like that._

_Get some rest._

_Pepper_

* * *

When Tony stumbled into the kitchen again a few hours later, the sun was already peeking through the New York skyline. He didn't bother checking the clock - it wasn't like he’d be going back to sleep anyway.

The nightmare still clung to his mind. It was one of the ones he’d had often these days, but left him no less shaken up.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Tony flinched. He hadn't seen Natasha, who was already sitting at the oval table. He nodded and made a beeline for the coffee machine, hoping to chase away the last images of his dream that were still clinging to his mind.

Natasha tilted her head when he sat down opposite her. “Steve?” She asked, with a frightening amount of certainty.

Tony might've protested, but he was too tired, and too exhausted from the past day. “Yeah.”

She waited, studying him, and Tony wondered if she was waiting for him to elaborate. But the images were still too raw for him to want to try and find words for them.

(Because Steve’d been lying before him, bleeding out, and there were no words for the horrible feeling of guilt and regret for a whole year lost, a whole year where he had let Steve believe…) He shook his head at himself. It had just been a dream, nothing happened, it was just his stupid subconscious feeding off his fears, but still -

“What happened last year, Tony?”

He looked up, thrown off by the sudden question.

She was looking at him openly, patiently, even though she’d asked him that exact same question twelve months ago.

Tony had never told anyone, not even Pepper, and by now the memories had a dark feel to it, as though someone had laid a filter on them, made them seem like a horrible, alternate reality instead of something that’d only happened a year ago.

The small parcel, given to him late at night, when they were on Tony’s floor. Steve’s hopeful yet nervous smile.

The dog tags, nestled inside a small wooden box, on a note saying _I love you_.

The endless joy, followed by dread and panic, as he’d read Steve’s first confession of love.

His split-second decision to run away to Malibu.

“It’s not his fault,” Tony said numbly.

“If that’s true,” Natasha said mildly, “it’s on you to change it.”

Tony’s hands clenched around his mug. “I don’t - It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

Tony tensed. “Nat -”

“ _Tony_ ,” she replied, in exactly the same tone.

“It wouldn't have worked out anyway,” Tony mumbled. “He’s Captain America and I’m… _me_.”

She raised her eyebrows and Tony bit his lip. He was still tired and felt helpless and exposed. He avoided her gaze and stared at the steam coming up from his mug.

For a few minutes, the kitchen was swallowed in silence.

Then, Natasha cleared her throat. “He cried for you,” she said. “For weeks.”

Tony swallowed, tried to find words, but his throat constricted and he couldn't say any of them.

He heard her chair scrape across the tiles as she stood. She walked around the table and gave him a hug with one arm around his shoulders. He leaned into and felt her lips press against his hair for a split second.

“You should talk to him,” she murmured and released him gently.

He didn't answer. She sighed and he heard her steps retreating as she left the kitchen.

He was alone.

* * *

_Steve,_

_Tony wouldn't want you to do this to yourself.  
Please at least try to eat._

_We’re all here for you, whenever you’re ready._

_Nat_

* * *

The _Ritz_ was lovely at this time of the year. At least, that’s what Pepper had told him, but she’d said it in an obnoxiously happy tone of voice that told him she thought nothing of it.

The golden doors were seamed with a decorated tree on each side, and the roof that shielded them from the car to the entrance was wrapped in red and green fir branches. Inside, a wide hallway led them to the dining room, lit only by chandeliers and fairy lights. In the middle, a massive, golden tree stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

Well. Now Tony at least knew what she’d meant. If he’d had the time, and the mental crisis for it, he could see himself putting his Malibu home into a similar state.

“This is _so cool_.”

Clint, of course.

Tony grinned. Of course there was a reason he’d brought him along.

“I know right?” Tony answered casually. “It’s totally reasonable!”

Luckily, they reached the dining room before Clint had the chance to ask him what he meant by that.

They were lead to their table by one of the waiters; it was huge and round, leaving space for a dozen other guests. Tony hurried to take the seat next to Clint, relieved when Natasha was the one to sit next to him and Steve was at the end of the group. (They’d accepted Bruce’s rejection of the offer to come with them - nobody was keen on jeopardising this year’s good track record with The Other Guy.)

Still, Tony only really managed to relax when their table started filling up. There were things about being here with Steve that tugged at Tony’s heart, like seeing Steve’s shoulder’s hunch as he stared at the large number of patrons streaming in through the door and longing to comfort him. (But that wasn't his place anymore.)

“Tony Stark!” An elderly woman bellowed as she draped her thick red coat over one of the chairs on her table. Tony frowned, trying to decide whether he was supposed to know her or not. “Oh, it’s such a joy to see you again! Say, how’re you finding New York?”

Tony breathed out and focused on the task in front of him.

It came easy to him, maybe even a little bit too easy. A little joke there, some meaningless conversation here, and dinner was over in a flash.

The doors to the ballroom were opened and little by little, some of the guests started making their war over to dance.

Clint stood up from his chair and walked past Tony, holding his hand out to Natasha in a flourish. “Could a woman be persuaded to let me take her to the dance?”

Natasha rolled his eyes at him, but took his hand. “Step on my foot and you’ll regret it.”

"Aye, Ma’am,” Clint responded, and off they went.

It only took Tony half a second to notice that that meant they would be Leaving Him Alone With Steve and even less than that to decide he did not want that to happen. Hastily, he was up on his feet.

“I think that’s my cue to leave, gentlemen,” he said with a blinding smile. “Would be a shame to let such a dance go to waste.”

He could feel Steve’s eyes following him as he left, burning into his back like soldering iron, but he forced himself to ignore it.

Thankfully, he had no trouble finding a dance partner. Before he’d even crossed the dining room hall, a young woman caught him by the arm and brazenly asked him to a dance.

She droned on about her studies at Yale, and Tony made sounds of agreement whenever he felt like he’d been silent for too long. His feet moved across the dance floor almost on their own accord; his feet followed the waltz with sheer muscle memory alone.

His mind was on Steve.

He knew Steve didn't like these kinds of events. The many people who wanted to talk to him, wanted a piece of Captain America, even if it was just a handshake, made him nervous. Tony’d been surprised when Steve decided to come along to this one, even when Tony had made it abundantly clear that he would be fine going by himself.

“And Mr. Whitman’s lectures are just _so interesting_ -”

“Mmmh,” Tony mumbled. “Sure.”

Maybe he shouldn't have left Steve by himself. They’d broken up, sure, but they were still friends, and it wasn't Steve’s fault Tony couldn't handle being close to him. The guy was probably being cornered by at least a dozen guests right now. Shit.

As soon as the band let the song come to an end, Tony murmured a shallow excuse to his dance partner and pushed through the crowd, back to the doors and the dining room, eyes straining to find their table, see if Steve was -

Not there anymore.

Their table was empty. Huh.

Tony frowned and returned to the ballroom, making a beeline for the bar. (Maybe he could spot Steve from here… Just to make sure he hadn't been dragged to dance…)

He just had time to order before a guy in a sleek, pearl white suit approached him.

“Tony Stark, what an honour.”

His voice, that overt friendliness that he had learned to recognise, made it very clear that it was _not_ an honour. Tony tensed while still keeping his eyes on the dance floor.

“And you are?”

“Justin Hammer.”

Now Tony turned and frowned at him, trying to place the name and face, and barely suppressed his scowl when he realised where he knew the guy from.

“Hammer Industries is having a bit of a rough time, I hear,” he said pointedly, taking his drink which Hammer was holding out to him.

Hammer barely managed to mask a scowl, the thin, wide smile still plastered on his face.“Sometimes, when you make the wrong decisions you can have temporary mishaps. I’m sure you're aware of that.”

Tony squinted at the lanky man before him and wondered which one of his public scandals that was supposed to be a jab at.

“See, Mister Stark, I have a proposal for you.”

Tony raised his eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’d considered shutting Hammer down right then and there - there wasn't anything good that would come out of this, that much was obvious - but part of him was curious just how much of a bad idea would follow this. (And it was a distraction against the persistent worry about -)

Hammer stood up straighter. “See, I have plans for some sound suppressors Hammer Industries is currently lacking the funds for, but -”

Tony held up a hand to silence him. “Hold up right there. Are you seriously asking me to fund your weapons project? _Me?”_

Hammer held up his hands placatingly. “No, of course not. We wouldn't be creating weapons, not at all, just the _Silencer_.”

Tony stared at him, blankly, for a few seconds.

“You’re serious,” he eventually said. “Aren’t you?”

Hammer spread his hands. “I think we could both profit from this. Hammer Industries will get the funding it needs and your company will get back on the right track.”

“I think,” Tony said, still taken aback. For some reason, Hammer’s words sounded like they were reaching him through a thick blanket. “My answer will be no. Jesus, have you at all paid attention to Stark Industries in the last two years?”

“Come on. Everyone knows this is not the right direction for you. I mean, phones? Really?”

Tony clenched his hands as he felt them start to shake. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grid out through clenched teeth. “I’m not -”

“ _Hey!_ ” Tony was suddenly not looking at Hammer anymore, but at a broad, muscular back.

It was Steve. Who Tony had been looking for. He grinned to himself. There was that sorted, then. 

“Back off.”

Hammer willingly went backwards, but it wasn't like he had much choice anyway, with Steve pushing him further and further away from Tony.

“Oh, Captain! What an honour. See, Tony and I were just -”

“I saw what you did,” Steve hissed lowly.

Hammer held up his hands. “I wasn’t -”

“ _Don’t_ try it.”

Tony put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, partly to pacify Steve and partly to steady himself. “Steve, ‘m fine. ’S just Hammer.”

“See?” He heard Hammer’s voice, which was way too eager for someone facing an angry Steve Rogers. “He’s fine.”

Steve glanced back at Tony searchingly, but whatever he found on Tony’s face made him expression darken.

Tony leaned to the side, steadying himself with one hand on the counter, and was just able to see Hammer taking a run for it and disappearing in the crowd.

“Hammer’s gone,” he observed mildly.

“What?” Steve whipped around, but it was already too late. “ _Shit_. That bastard. When I find him I’m going to -”

Tony frowned, one hand clenching in Steve’s shirt as Steve made a move to follow Hammer into the crowd.

“Don’t leave.”

Steve froze.

“Tony?”

“Don’t leave,“ Tony repeated, entirely unbothered by Steve’s slightly shocked facial expression. “I don’t want you to leave.”

A hand came up to softly grasp Tony’s left shoulder, which made him realise he’d been tilting dangerously in that direction.

“Okay,” Steve said. His voice was quivering a little, Tony noticed distantly. “But we should get you home. And to the MedBay.”

Tony started furiously shaking his head as Steve slowly eased him away from the counter and started manoeuvring them both through the crowd.

“I’m fine,” he repeated once they were in the underground garage. “I feel quite good, actually.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied darkly. “I’m sure you do.”

Tony frowned. He was sure there was something going wrong here, something he should be picking up on, but his head came up empty. By the time he’d decided he should ask Steve about it, Steve was already opening the door of a black limo for him, and the thought fled his mind.

Tony barely noticed time passing as their care made its way through the congested streets of New York. The city was still lit brightly by the Christmas lights, and they bathed Steve’s face in a warm, golden glow.

“You’re beautiful,” Tony told him, because it was true.

He heard Steve take a sharp breath.

“I miss you,” he added, because that was also true.

“We’re gonna be home soon,” Steve said stiffly. “You just… Sit tight.”

Tony huffed and stared at Steve’s shoulder, mourning the fact that he couldn't use it as a pillow, as for some reason Steve’d decided to sit too far away from him.

At the Tower, Steve started to steer him towards, the MedBay, which Tony protested until Steve relented, after Tony promised he’d only had one sip of his drink.

Steve did insist on bringing Tony to his bedroom, which he absolutely had no problem with. He’d missed Steve. He’d missed having someone next to him when he went to bed.

So, when Steve had helped him crawl under the covers, Tony held onto his sleeve.

“Stay.”

He felt Steve freeze.

“Please.”

“Okay,” Steve whispered, and Tony felt him climb onto the bed on the other side, the one near the door, which Steve had insisted he take when it used to be _their_ room.

They settled into silence, but Tony could feel months of unanswered questions burn in his mind.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you give me your dog tags?”

“Because I wanted to show you that I meant it.” Steve’s voice was quiet. “Why did you leave?”

“Because I was scared you didn't mean it. That you’d realise you made a mistake and leave,” Tony replied promptly, before he’d even had the time to think about the fact that maybe, this was the exact topic he’d avoided talking to Steve about for over a year. “But I was even more scared that you’d meant it, and I’d fuck it up again. Because I always do, you know? And you, you deserve better.”

Tony frowned. He’d only just realised that. Why had he said it out loud again?

He felt hot liquid running down his cheeks, but couldn't place the feeling. He looked up.

Steve was staring at him. He’d always been staring at him. First with longing, then with joy, and recently with sadness.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow,” Steve said, after a few moments of heavy silence. “When you can think clearly, okay?”

Tony was about to protest - talking about it right then and there seemed like a terrific idea - but he felt tiredness pulling at his bones, and Steve was the heavy, sure presence beside him that he’d missed for so long.

“Tomorrow,” Tony mumbled. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

* * *

_Tony,_

_I’m sorry I upset you, and I respect your choice to take a break. But I don’t want to lose you. I understand if you don't want to see me for a while, but when you’re ready, I would like to stay friends._

_Steve_

* * *

Tony’d had a few rude awakenings in his lifetime, but he immediately decided to put this one among the worst.

His head was pounding, his throat was dry, and he struggled to remember how he’d went to bed, not to speak of how he’d gotten home in the first place. Then, he opened his eyes and saw Steve, sitting next to him, _looking at him_.

“Uh,” Tony said intelligently. “Please tell me we didn’t.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, and yeah, it was a stupid assumption - they were both still fully clothed, and Steve wouldn't have slept with him anyway, especially not drunk.

“Never mind,” Tony grumbled. “Look, I’m awake, you’ve fulfilled whatever moral duties you think you have, you can leave me alone.”

Steve breathed in deeply. “Tony, we need to talk.”

Tony tugged the blanket up to his eyes. “No, I’m pretty sure we don’t.”

“You agreed we would, last night.”

Tony groaned. “Oh come on, I can’t even remember that.”

“ _Hammer.”_

Steve’s growl was so angry it coaxed Tony out of his makeshift hiding place under the covers.

“What?”

“I saw him. He put something in your drink. _Damn it_ , I shouldn’t’ve let him leave.”

Tony frowned, fighting through the fuzzy memories. “Huh. I knew he was an asshole.”

Steve just shook his head. “Just, last night, you…”

“Steve,” Tony said sharply. “Don’t.”

But Steve barrelled on. “You said you missed me. You said -”

“I wasn't _sober_ , Steve!” Agitated, Tony sat up.

Steve moved back a little, but didn't back down. “And you said you were scared I didn't mean it, last Christmas. That’s why you left.”

Tony swallowed and stared down at his hands. He clenched them into tight fists.

“Yeah. So what?”

“ _So what?_ ” Steve echoed incredulously. “Tony, I didn’t… I thought you left because you didn't like me anymore.”

Tony snorted bitterly. “Yeah, as if I’d ever be the one walking away. I know you didn't really love me, no one ever does! That’s why I broke up with you before you could realise you made a mistake, and leave me like _everyone else I’ve ever loved!_ ”

Steve’s eyes went wide.

Tony slapped a hand across his mouth. _Shit._ He tensed.

Steve stared at him, and Tony could do little more than stare back into those baby blues, helplessly and embarrassingly exposed. “Tony, sweetheart, do you mean that?”

Tony stared at him, shaking. “I -”

“Wait here.” Steve squeezed his arm and hurried out of the room.

 _Wait here._ Tony’d never been good at that kind of order. And sitting there, in his own bed, after what was probably the worst love confession of his life (and he had quite a few disastrous ones to choose from), waiting for Steve to come back. (Where had he even disappeared to, anyway?)

He had half a mind to have JARVIS call the elevator and leave.

But the thought of the hopeful glint in Steve’s eyes let him stay.

His heart was beating so frantically Tony was worried it might beat right out of his chest. He hadn't wanted Steve to know. He’d intended for Steve to never find out. It was why he’d left for Malibu, and then left Steve altogether. Better to do it himself, before Steve came to his senses.

He heard Steve approach in the hallway and wiggled out of the covers, sitting up properly. Steve still had that hesitant, hopeful smile on his face. In his hands, he held the sketchbook Tony’d gotten him for Christmas last year. (Before Steve’d given him the dog tags.)

Steve held it out to him. Tony opened it, still nervous and confused.

He took a sharp breath. It was him. It was all him.

In the workshop and in the Iron Man suit, in Armani and dirty shirts, the laugh lines around his eyes and the straining muscles on his arms.

It was a big sketchbook. And every single page, every single drawing was of him.

“Did you really…” Tony swallowed. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. “Spend the whole year…”

“Drawing you,” Steve confirmed. “Because I love you, and even though you’d made it pretty clear you wanted nothin’ more to do with me, I couldn't let you go.”

“Steve.” Tony felt his breathing quicken.

“Ssh.” Steve laid a hand on his shoulder and shushed him, but that couldn't calm Tony’s racing heart.

“Steve. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t. I got scared and I ran but I never… I didn't think that _this_ … And you really …?”

“Love you?” Steve supplied easily. “I do. I have for a long time.”

Tony flinched. “I love you too. I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so -”

“Tony,” Steve cut him off softly. “It’s okay.”

Tony shook his head, felt his muscles shake under Steve’s fingers. “I just, I have commitment issues, and I couldn’t… It was so sudden.”

Steve rubbed gentle circles over the skin on Tony’s neck. “I know you have your issues. I wouldn't want you any other way.”

Tony shut his mouth, lips quivering still.

Steve smiled. “Kiss me?”

Tony obliged.

* * *

_Tony,_

_I went on a run, and I didn’t want to wake you. There’s coffee in the can, but I hope you get some more sleep._

_I love you,_

_Steve_

Tony smiled as he smoothed his finger over the delicate swirl of Steve’s handwriting. A warm feeling spread through his chest, one that he hadn't felt in twelve months.

He was home again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading, and would love to read your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> /
> 
> Warning:  
> Hammer puts something in Tony's drink that makes his tongue a little loose. Steve intervenes before Tony can take more than a sip and stays with him until the effects have worn off


End file.
